The Strange Vine
by Diotima Mantinea
Summary: Serena returns to say a final goodbye before she can move on with her life.


The Strange Vine Sailor Spectra  
  
Author's Notes: Hi everyone! No I am not dead, just sort of in a comatose  
  
mode (school is a pain, too much busywork) Yes, I am planning to finish my  
  
stories, but it will probably be a while until I can get them up. Anyhow,  
  
here is a little piece that I wrote. A one parter (but I love it). E-mail  
  
me if you like it, or even if you don't. SailorSpectra@msn.com  
  
This story is OLD... I wrote it back in high school... I'll revise it someday  
  


* * *

  
Talk to you later  
  


* * *

  
Sailor Spectra  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, and even if I wanted to buy them,  
  
my tax refund check would be looked at as a joke  
  


* * *

  
It is a strange looking vine. Although so common, I cannot help  
  
shuddering at it. That same vine with its leaves unfurling like butterflies  
  
coming out of cocoons, and lapis lazuli blossoms stretching their fingers  
  
towards the sun. It looks so innocent, until you realize it is draining  
  
the life from the tree it clings to. I used to think that.  
  
But I no longer care.  
  
That stupid vine was what started it all. It took the last of  
  
what I cared for. I brush past the dying tree and start down the once  
  
well-worn path. After eight years, it is not surprising that stinging  
  
weeds overrun it and tree limbs stretch over the dying path. I stop all  
  
of a sudden and see where Andrew had carved our names in a monstrous oak  
  
when we were teenagers.  
  
But I no longer care. All emotions left me that day eight years ago.  
  
I creep down the path again, startling a rabbit that runs into  
  
the trees and in turn, startles a pair of glistening blue jays roosting  
  
in a tree. When I was younger, the path scared the wits out of me. The  
  
only reason I went down it was to reach what was at the end of it. It  
  
especially scared me when I sneaked out the house at night to meet Andrew.  
  
Back then, the faintest rustle of leaves would cause me to jump in the  
  
dim flickering starlight. But that was then, and the sun is out casting  
  
strange dancing shadows across the path and weeds today. I'm not scared  
  
anymore. A few yards later, I break out of the woods and see the lake.  
  
But I no longer care. All emotions left me that day eight years  
  
ago. When Andrew and I brought our two-year-old child here.  
  
It is still as gorgeous as it always was. The moss covered boulder  
  
where Andrew and I shared our first kiss at 16. I remember that afternoon  
  
as if it was just yesterday. I feel as if I am floating over the grass and  
  
flowers as I cross over to the rock. I hoist myself up on the boulder.  
  
The moss is still as velvety as it was, if not more plush, since no one  
  
has come by and flattened it in years. I fold my legs under me and gaze  
  
over the shimmering water. So clear and clean. We used to swim in there,  
  
just having fun. It is a surprise to find a pile of small flat rocks in  
  
an indent of the boulder. They are the same rocks that Andrew and I  
  
painstakingly searched for and collected for my rock-skipping lesson.  
  
I had forgotten about them. It was 10 years ago, when I was pregnant  
  
with Ami. I was not allowed to swim when Andrew decided to teach me. We  
  
didn't get too far into the lesson though. I went into labor the same  
  
day, and we never remembered to finish the lesson. Andrew didn't even  
  
get a chance to teach Ami.  
  
But I no longer care. All emotions left me that day eight years  
  
ago. When Andrew and I brought our two-year-old child here. That  
  
Christmas day when Andrew decided to teach Ami to ice skate.  
  
I look out over the lake again. I don't suppose anyone, other  
  
than Andrew, Ami and I, ever came to this part of the lake, except for  
  
that Christmas day. Andrew and I almost never found it. The strange vine,  
  
which we never discovered the name of, was what led us to the path. We  
  
were eight at the time. Best friends out for an adventure after seeing  
  
Indiana Jones for the millionth time, except that we never found the  
  
adventure. Only a place to laugh at our naughty jokes. A place to cry  
  
on each other's shoulders at some tragedy in our lives. A place where  
  
we went swimming and skinny-dipping. A place where we told scary stories.  
  
A place where we first fell in love. A place where he proposed. Maybe  
  
we did find the adventure we were looking for. I don't know.  
  
But I no longer care. All emotions left me that day eight years  
  
ago. When Andrew and I brought our two-year-old child here. That Christmas  
  
day when Andrew decided to teach Ami to ice skate. That warm Christmas day  
  
when the lake swallowed my husband and child, and I could do nothing to  
  
save them because they were too far, and I was too late.  
  
I look down at my reflection in the water. I never forgave myself  
  
for their deaths. Even eight years of therapy did not help. I never thought  
  
I could love again. That is until recently. I met Darien. He helped me  
  
escape my pain and fear that everyone I loved would die. Helped me to  
  
create new memories. Now this is it. I came to say goodbye to the lake,  
  
and let it all go. The hurt. The memory. Andrew and Ami will still live  
  
in my heart; I can never forget them. I slide down the smooth edge of  
  
the boulder and realize I still have one of the small flat rocks in my  
  
hand. Gray and with a serrated edge; it resembles an arrowhead. No matter.  
  
I pull back my arm and fling, and the flick of my wrist causes the stone  
  
to skip one . . .two . . .three . . .four . . .five times.  
  
"Hi Andrew. Darien taught me that. You would have liked him.  
  
I'll bring him here one day." I sigh and say goodbye. I walk down the  
  
path, not stopping or looking back until I am settled in my car once  
  
again. Out of the corner of my eye I see a little boy and girl, no more  
  
than nine years old walking down the street. Their gapped teeth grins  
  
erupt when they see the strange vine, and if it is even possible, the  
  
grins become wider when they see the faded path. It is a time for new  
  
beginnings.  
  
Now I do care. Although emotions may have left me eight years ago  
  
when Andrew and I brought our two-year-old child here, the emotions are  
  
back. That Christmas day when Andrew decided to teach Ami to ice skate.  
  
That warm Christmas day when the lake swallowed my husband and child,  
  
and I could do nothing to save them because they were too far, and I was  
  
too late. I thought that my life would never continue. But it has. The  
  
strange curling vine failed in trying to drain my life. 


End file.
